


Fairy Godfather

by eternaleponine



Category: Magic University - Cecilia Tan
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-14
Updated: 2010-11-14
Packaged: 2017-10-13 05:04:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/133259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternaleponine/pseuds/eternaleponine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How Timothy became Timothy.  Contains spoilers through book 3.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fairy Godfather

She sat on the front porch, picking at a hole in the knee of her thrift store jeans.  Summer heat made the air above the sidewalk shimmer.  When she was a little girl she'd believed that it was some kind of magic, leaking up from the ground in anticipation of some grand event, like the arrival of Prince Charming or her fairy godmother.  Now she was a big girl and knew better; there would be no prince or fairy anything.  Magic wasn't real.  Even if it was, she wasn't Cinderella.

She was locked out, which wasn't an unusual occurrence in and of itself, but usually they tossed her in the back yard, where no one could see her.  They didn't like for anyone to know about her if they could avoid it.  People might ask questions.

But the front door had been closer this time, and no one was around anyway.  All of the other families were at the park having picnics, or whatever it was that regular families did.  Her parents had died when she was so young she didn't remember them.  She'd been in the care of her godmonsters since, and knew that her life was anything but ordinary, in all of the worst ways.  She didn't need a grown up to tell her that 'It'll be our little secret' coming from an adult meant they were doing something wrong.

"Hello," a low voice said from right in front of her.  She jerked her awareness back to reality, pulling her limbs in tightly to her body.  "Hot today, isn't it?"

Never talk to strangers, she'd been told.  Panic set in as she realized that there was nowhere for her to go.  She couldn't just go inside because the door was locked.  She could knock, but they might not answer.  She had long since given up and trying to plead her way back inside; it only made them angrier.  She didn't even know what she was in trouble for this time, but she was used to that by now.  She didn't ask, just took the punishment and hoped that afterwards he wouldn't try to make it up to her.

Finally she just nodded.  It wasn't talking, after all.

"Do you mind if I sit down for a minute?" the man asked.  He looked young, or young-ish, and handsome.  If he wasn't a boy, she would have said he was pretty, but boys weren't pretty. 

She shook her head.  It wasn't as if she could stop him by saying no. 

"My name's Brandish," he said, offering her his hand.  She didn't take it, and he dropped his after a moment.  "It's all right.  You don't have to talk to me.  I'd like to talk to you, though."

She shrugged. 

"Do you like fairy tales?" he asked.

She shrugged again, watching him out of the corner of her eye.  She kept one ear out for the sound of anything happening in the house, half wishing they would unlock the door and let her back in so she could get away from this man who seemed friendly but asked strange questions, and half hoping that no one would suddenly poke their head out and land her in more trouble for talking to a stranger, even though she wasn't saying a word.

"What would you say if I told you that magic was real?"

She couldn't help the soft snort that came out.  He couldn't be serious.  She eyed him warily, waiting for his smile to fade, turn to anger. 

It didn't.  "I know.  It sounds crazy.  Adults aren't supposed to believe in magic; they're the ones who've told you all along it's not real.  But what if I told you that it is?  What if I told you that I can do magic?"

She continued to watch him, her hands clasped tightly between her knees.  She didn't realize she was leaning forward, shifting closer to him on the stairs because she _wanted_ to believe what this strange man was saying... even though he was clearly crazy.  If he wasn't, why would he be talking about _magic_ , for one, and why would he be talking to _her_ , for another?

"Would you like to see some magic?" the man asked.

She knew she should say no.  She should tell him to go away.  Instead she nodded, leaning still closer.

"Look at that flower there," he said, pointing to a dandelion growing in a crack in a sidewalk.

"It's not a flower.  It's a weed," she replied, then clapped her hand over her mouth.

"The leaves are edible," the man said, "and have medicinal uses, as do the roots.  Meanwhile, foxglove may be beautiful but even a little bit can kill you.  Although that, too, can be used medicinally if handled correctly.  In any case, look at that dandelion."

She looked, and for a moment nothing happened.  Then suddenly it had snapped off and moved through the air to the man's hand.  He held it out to her.  Her hand shook slightly as she reached out to take it.

"How did you do that?" she whispered.

"Magic," he told her with a smile.  There was nothing teasing in his tone.  "You could learn to do that, and much, much more.  If you wanted to."

She studied the yellow blossom, her forehead creasing into a frown.  "How do you know?"

"I just do," he said.  "Trust me."

She'd heard _that_ before.  Her frown deepened.

"Haven't you always felt as if you didn't quite fit in with everyone else?" he asked.  "Haven't you ever wondered why?"

Yes, she had, but no, she hadn't.  She _knew_ why she felt different from everyone else; she _was_.  Slowly, though, she nodded. 

"How do I learn?" she asked, her voice dropped to a whisper. 

"First we need to get you away from here."

The man's eyes were so intent on her she squirmed.  "Away from here?" she echoed.  "Where would I go?"

"Somewhere safe," he said.  "I promise you that.  But first there's something we need to do.  Something to make sure that no one can ever find you."

"What?" she asked, her eyes narrowing slightly.  She didn't want to be here, but magic or no, she didn't know this man, and he was trying to take her away.  How did she know that he wouldn't be worse than the hell she already knew?

"We need to change your appearance.  Completely."  He leaned in so that he was whispering in her ear.  "We need to turn you into a boy."

She jerked back from the brush of his breath against her cheek.  "Y-You can do that?"

He nodded.  "I can.  And I will, and then no one can hurt you anymore."

How did he _know_?  Was that magic too?  "How do I know you'll do it?" she asked, her jaw clenched.  "How do I know you won't just..."  She didn't need to finish the sentence.  They both knew how it ended.

"I give you my word," he said. 

So the choice was staying with the devil she knew, or trusting the one she didn't, who might be a devil or might be Prince Charming _and Fairy_ Godmother all wrapped up in one.  Could the latter really be worse than the former?  When all was said in done, what was the worst that could happen? 

"Okay," she agreed.

"Is there anything you want to take with you?" he asked.

She shook her head.  Even if there had been, she couldn't get in unless maybe the basement window was still unlocked, but if they caught her sneaking in or out, she'd be in even worse trouble and never get away. 

"All right, then."  The man stood up and offered his hand again, and this time she took it.  He held it gently as she stood up, then let go when she reached the bottom of the steps.  "This way," he said.

He led her to a car, and she knew she shouldn't get inside, but she did anyway.  He drove her to a small house not very far away.  "I've been staying with a friend," he explained.  "Come on inside."

Her stomach was in knots.  This was a bad idea.  A very bad idea, and what had she done?  She balked at the door, poised to turn and run.

"I won't hurt you," he said.  "Once we're done, I won't be able to." 

"What do you mean?" she asked, still hesitating at the door.

"In order to turn you into a boy, someone else has to become a girl.  A woman."  He went further into the house, looking back at her. 

"Who?" she called after him.

"Me."

She chewed her lip, considering.  Just because he would be a woman after didn't mean that he couldn't hurt her, but at least it wouldn't be _easy_ , and if she didn't then she wouldn't get to learn magic and she would be weak like this forever.  She stepped inside.

*

When it was over, she wasn't sure that it had worked.  She didn't feel any different.  She looked down at her hands, her body, and it didn't really _look_ any different either.  The man, Brandish, was now a woman.  Changes has been wrought that were obvious even to the casual observer.  But her own body remained exactly as it had been.

A mirror hung in the hallway, and she took a step towards it, and... oh.  _That_ was different.  Her hand went between her legs before she could think about, touching the bulge that hadn't been there when she'd woken up that morning.  Her cheeks flushed scarlet as she took another step.  It felt strange.  Not bad, but different.  _Very_ different.

She – _he_ – looked at himself in the mirror, frowning. 

"You'll see more of a difference as you get older," the man, now woman, reassured her.  Him.  That would take some getting used to.  "We'll get you new clothes and a haircut.  Soon you'll hardly recognize yourself."

He nodded, still staring in the mirror.  "And it won't—it won't fade?  It won't go away?"

"No.  The change is permanent."  Brandish sounded almost relieved.  "It would take a powerful magic to undo it, and we won't let that happen.  Come on.  Let's get you fixed up, shall we?"

"Yeah, okay."  He tore himself away from the mirror, only to return to it a little while later, now in a polo shirt and shorts and with short hair framing his face.  _Now_ he looked different.  Now he looked like a boy.  Now he _was_ a boy, just like Brandish was now a woman.

He looked at her, making eye contact through the mirror.  "What's... what's my name now?"

"I was thinking Timothy," she said. 

"Timothy," he repeated, and nodded, smiling at his new self.  A new name for a new life.  "Timothy Frost."  The boy in the mirror smiled back.


End file.
